


Can't Just Quit

by silver9mm



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, J2, M/M, end of series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 05:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver9mm/pseuds/silver9mm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://silver9mm.tumblr.com/post/140276412550">drabble</a>  for my <a href="http://prettymouthngreenmyeyes.tumblr.com/">bestie </a> on the anniversary of our friendship </p><p>And then “cut” is called but Jensen doesn’t move, and he won’t give them another take. He also can’t just quit. Dean’s supposed to grieve, but Jensen can’t seem to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Just Quit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Addie_D_123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Addie_D_123/gifts).



Sam is dead at his feet, ripped apart by the evil he hated, feared, had to embrace because that’s the only way it was ever going to end for them. Dean is good and Sam was bad and that is a fucking joke but in the script and so that’s the way it has to be. Sam, dead by Dean’s hand and you’re supposed to think and feel that it’s all over, that God came back and isn’t that great. But Jensen isn’t going to play it like that. A few tears, a wiped face, a look of resolution. And one of madness. He can do that; Jensen excels at that. Drags Hell and Mary and John’s A+ parenting and a knife in Sammy’s back and a million fists to his own face and missing out on his daughter’s first steps and her reaching for a television screen instead of him. He pushes all that into his eyes, mainlines it into his bloodstream. An infinitesimal curl of his upper lip, dilated pupils, and you’ll know, in that last second even though you’ll never _really_ know, that there are no such things as good and bad. There’s only love, and what you’ll do for it. What it will do to you.

And then “cut” is called but Jensen doesn’t move, and he won’t give them another take. He also can’t just quit. Dean’s supposed to grieve, but Jensen can’t seem to stop. Teeth grind and his throat works, a keening sound that surprises everyone. His hands come up to shield his eyes, they curl into fists and the sobs start. It was a stupid thing to do, to let go, to remember. Worse, to think about the future. Sam’s dead and Dean’s left out there alone. No closure, no more chances to say he’s sorry, that he cares, that he forgives. Loves. To ask for forgiveness. Dean’s alone and all he’s got is Jensen who can’t beg back time, either. Can’t freeze frame or delete or lower the lights on all the things he did, shouldn’t have, wished. Where does he even begin, where are the lines drawn between him and Dean? Between Dean and Sam… Jensen and Jared.

People are moving carefully, quietly, but he couldn’t hear them if they had bells on, the blood rushing in his ears so loudly. A hand. It bounces off him the first time, thrown away by the shuddering, but Jared presses again and Jensen’s head comes up and as ever with an audience, there’s only the two of them, ever, always.

“C’mon,” Jared mouths, might have said, but Jensen can’t hear him, can only see and barely. He follows and the crowd parts around them, the planned celebration on hold.

No one meets Jared’s eyes, and smiling Sam’s smile, he weaves his way through the crew, Jensen so close behind him he’s a breath held, a heartbeat. Leads him off set, into the rain where he can hide. Not behind Jared now; next to him, looking like Dean, a false blush on his pale face where he’s wiped fake blood away. Sam’s blood, and they’re between trailers, between the last episode and the rest of their lives. Sam’s smile dies because Jared doesn’t smile. He grins and it’s meaningless and for everyone else except Jensen. With Jensen he can frown, he can pout, he can be no one and nothing and be happy with it.

Jensen can’t smile and his hands are shaking as he reaches for Jared. “It’s this thing inside me, in my chest. Like…like all these animals at a zoo or something, suddenly knowing no one is coming back for them and they’re fighting to get free before they starve to death.” He barks a harsh laugh. “Stupid.”

His hand goes to his chest as if he can soothe them, free them. Curls into a fist the size of his heart. Strong, capable. Jared’s own hands are huge; he knows this, understands what it means. But his heart is hollow inside like one of those cheap chocolate bunnies. Wild animals and chocolate bunnies. That’s them, alright. Starving, empty. He smirks, glad Jensen doesn’t see it. He’s looking at where his other hand is still on Jared, on Sam’s brown jacket, clutching. Jared understands suddenly.

“Kinda,” agrees Jared. About the stupid part. Because, “Just ’cause this is all over, doesn’t mean we are. Just because they are, ’cause Sam’s dead—” and poor fucking Jensen actually flinches at that. Jared puts his huge empty palm over Jensen’s fist on his chest. It fits like Jared was made that way, molded around Jensen. Hollowness filled, a feeding hand. “I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”


End file.
